


All My Love

by Hiddlesworth_ed (Thorki_ed)



Category: The Notebook (2004), Thor (Movies) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Virginity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-13
Updated: 2013-07-20
Packaged: 2017-11-16 04:54:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/535734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thorki_ed/pseuds/Hiddlesworth_ed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>It was young love, they type of love that nobody could come between as the two bodies slept peacefully intertwined. It was the type of love that made adults and kids stare alike, for the couple was free. Free and happy, their only wish to spend every moment of the day together, laughing, dancing through the streets and in the rain and everyone else be damned if they tried to say these lovers would never last.</i><br/> </p><p>It's a bit of a love story, a bit of a sad story, and very 'Notebook'-esque (and in that time period).</p><p>Updates will be a bit slow, and I apologize in advance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Young Love

It was young love, they type of love that nobody could come between as the two bodies slept peacefully intertwined. It was the type of love that made adults and kids stare alike, for the couple was free. Free and happy, their only wish to spend every moment of the day together, laughing, dancing through the streets and in the rain and everyone else be damned if they tried to say these lovers would never last.

It was the type of love neither of their parents approved of.

Tom came from a business-oriented family, his father having worked his entire life to get to where he was now. Actually, Tom didn’t even know where he “was” now, just that he was important, and that everyone in the company looked to him for something or the other. He learned to pick up the phone politely and say “just one moment please” before fetching his father, always in his study behind a large mahogany desk. Other than that, Tom didn’t know much, and from his father’s failure to talk about, he sometimes wondered if his mother even knew.

Chris, on the other hand, grew up in little town, never employed (not officially, anyway), but earned his money through honest work. It started when his father had been called in to fix Ms. Jones’s sink. Luck would have it that his father would fall ill that very day, and Chris showed up instead. Ms. Jones didn’t mind much at all, as long as her plumbing was fix, and fixed it was. Just a week later, they got a call from Mr. Durfey, a friend of Ms. Jones’s, about a leaking roof and soon, everyone in town knew who to call if they wanted something done right for a good price.

In fact, this was how the boys met. The Hiddlestons were new to town, his father having just been called out for business. They moved quite a bit, Tom suffering the most with his constant change of schooling and leaving his good friends behind. Eventually, they thought home-schooling him would be better. Within a week, their shower had decided to permanently spew cold water. After a dozen recommendations of the Hemsworth’s company, they finally called in. The man who picked up said they were free tomorrow, the Monday, and it was settled. His father kept a strict schedule, working from nine until five on weekdays, and his mother picked up odd shifts at the daycare now and then, so Tom agreed to stay home for the day and wait for the man to come fix their shower. The boy that stood on the porch after ringing the doorbell was much younger than Tom had guessed. 

“Hi,” the tanned blonde said. “I’m Chris Hemsworth, and I’ve got a call for a broken shower head?” He raised his toolbox up to prove so.

“You’re in the right place, come in,” Tom offered politely, stepping aside. Being about the same height, he figured they were about the same age as well. “I’m Thomas.”

Taking his boots off, he gestured for Tom to go first. “Lead the way, Tom”

He didn’t bother to correct him, as he usually did with people who shortened his name. Usually, it irritated him, made him feel like a baby or a pet, or improper in some way. His parents always called him Thomas. From Chris, it felt friendly for a change; he rather liked it. Tom led him to the bathroom up the spiral carpeted staircase and watched as Chris inspected it before plopping his toolbox down. He wondered how Chris would know what was wrong with it, so he asked.

Chris gave him a smile. “My dad showed me a lot of stuff when I was young. He said I was a real natural – born with a hammer in my hand.” 

Tom smiled because Chris’s was so infectious. “How old are you?”

“Sixteen,” Chris said, looking at Tom raising his eyebrows. “Don’t let my looks deceive you.”

“I just figured you a lot older, is all.” Truthfully Tom was a little embarrassed. He hadn’t meant to be rude. “Sorry,” he added.

“No apologies needed, I get that all the time. Some say it’s the tan and the muscle, but I work outside a lot and carrying this isn’t as easy as it looks,” he said with a nod toward the toolbox. It did look awfully heavy, and when Chris opened it for his tools, Tom could see that there must have been at least one of everything.

“Do you go to school around here?” Tom asked curiously. 

“Nah, I had to help my dad out with this stuff. It used to be his company but he started getting a bit sick so I promise I would take on some of his jobs. The customers seemed okay with it, so I never got back to school.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Tom said genuinely. 

“He’s doing alright now. Just tired a lot.” He popped off the showerhead and caught it before it hit the tub. “What about you? You look awfully young to not be in school.”

“I’m sixteen as well, don’t let _my_ looks deceive _you_. And we move a lot, so my parents decided to have me homeschooled,” Tom’s voice saddened the slightest. “They figure it would be easier if I didn’t have to say goodbye to a lot of people.”

Chris felt sorry for the boy. Admittedly, he had been envious upon first entering the house, unable to help but notice the chandeliers and porcelain tiles or the grand staircase. He had thought about the rickety wooden boards he had at home with a pang of jealousy. Now, he came to know that it wasn’t all that he thought it was.

“I take it your parents work here?”

“Yeah. My dad’s in that big white building off North Street.”

 _Businessman, then._ Chris nodded his understanding. “How do you like the town so far?” 

“It’s nice and quiet. I much prefer it than the other big cities we’ve been too. The people here are nice too.” He gave Chris a very meaningful glance, and their eyes met briefly. 

Chris smiled back. “It’s not always so quiet, you know. Have you heard about the fair this weekend?”

“Fair?”

“Yeah. You know, rides and candy and lots of bright lights? Always loud with laughter,” Chris assured.

“We just moved here a week ago. I didn’t know anything about this town.”

“Well how about I show you?”

“Oh, that’s awfully kind of you, but I wouldn’t want to take up your time.”

“It’s no trouble. I used to go every year with my dad, but I have a feeling he’d be too tired this year. You’ll be doing me a great service by accompanying me so I don’t have to go alone,” Chris said cheerfully, smiling at the showerhead now. He had done something or the other to make it work, presumably. 

Tom blinked at him. Chris seemed genuinely kind and Tom had no friends in this town. He really wanted to just have a good time. What was the harm, right? Still… he should ask his parents first.

“Well…”

“Hey, don’t worry if you don’t want to. I was only suggesting,” Chris said, hoping he hadn’t come off too strongly. He just couldn’t help it; Tom was the very picture of naïve and sheltered, like a lost boy who had fallen from the heavens with his tuft of curly blonde hair.

“I want to,” Tom blurted out right away. “When shall we go?”

Chris started to pack his tools away and thought for a moment. “I have a few jobs to do in the afternoons on most days. How’s about I come get you Saturday at around seven?” He proposed after he had gathered his things.

“Sure,” Tom agreed as he followed Chris down the stairs. “What do we owe you for your kind work?”

“Think nothing of it,” Chris waved him off. “You already agreed to come to the fair with me, I think that’s enough.”

“That’s not fair!” Tom protested. “ _You’re_ the one who offered to take me to this festival as a kind and generous gift, I must repay you for all that you’ve done today!”

Chris just shook his head as he forced his feet into his boots again. “How about you keep the money your parents gave you for this, and bring it to the fair instead? You’ll need it there anyway.”

Tom was slightly confused, but before he knew it, Chris was already out on the porch again. He turned to wave Tom goodbye. “I’ll see you on Saturday!” 

Tom just stared at the strangely kind boy and noticed the sun behind him dimmed slightly when he revealed that brilliant smile of his, and Tom found himself excited for the first time since they had stepped foot here. 

 

\--

As promised, the handsome handyman had come at seven o’ clock, but Tom had dashed out of the house to meet him before he could ever make it to the steps.

Tugging his shoulder, Tom raced around the corner before letting him go, Chris laughing at him the whole while. When he finally regained control of his own arm, he turned to Tom. “What was that all about?” His tone wasn’t chiding the least, and Tom was grateful.

“Well, you see…” Tom let his sentence drift off with vague waving motions of his hand. 

Chris raised an eyebrow. Of course he knew – in fact, he was in that very same position quite often. “Your parents don’t know?”

Tom let out a huff of frustration and frowned. “It’s just that – they don’t think I should be running off with people at night and having too much fun, you know? They don’t think I can take care of myself.” As if trying to prove to Chris he could, he grabbed the taller boy’s wrist and tugged as he went for the direction of the crowd. It seemed like this fair was quite a big deal, and Tom was already giddy with wide smiles and shining eyes, his earlier frown completely forgotten. Chris immediately decided he liked Tom much better this way – happy, and carefree. The frown simply didn’t sit well on the boy’s face.

“I’m uncontrollably excited,” Tom said, pointing out the obvious. Chris could swear that the curls on his head didn’t stop bouncing for a second.

“Come on, the ticket booth is over there,” he said with a smile, pointing at the red and yellow striped booths. He ended up having to guide Tom by placing his hand on the boy’s back as Tom was simply too distracted by the lights and sounds of the festival to keep his eyes forward.

“Is this your first time at a fair?” Chris asked, even though the answer was obvious. He received an awestruck nod, unaccompanied by words. At that moment, Chris felt very responsible for the boy, and very lucky to be his first introduction to something he was obviously very pleased with. “Then you’re in for a good time,” he promised, paying for both their entrance tickets.

Tom was mildly upset by this, not wanting Chris to pay for everything, especially having already fixed their shower for free.

“Don’t worry,” Chris said easily. “You’ll need it.”

\--

The first stop was a rickety coaster. It didn’t go too high, but there were still sharp turns and large drops along the line, and Tom’s face flushed happily as he screamed his lungs out, arms high in the air to show he wasn’t scared. 

“Are you ever scared?” Chris asked, getting out of his seat with wobbly legs. He sure hoped he seemed a lot more composed than he was. 

“I never get afraid of things, I only get excited,” Tom said very confidently and very happily.

“Only excited, eh? Uncontrollably so?” Chris teased.

Tom pulled a face at him, but it was soon forgotten as Chris led him past some of the booths to where the man had rallied quite a large crowd. 

\--

“C’mon, step right up if you dare take the test of strength!”

He held a large mallet to the side, his other arm sweeping over the crowd to invite anyone to the challenge. They watched a slender man saunter up with a girl around his arm, and take the mallet as his girlfriend handed over some change. He swung an entire 180 degrees, slamming the hammer down on the pad as hard as he could and the crowd gasped, watching the little block rise up, up, up – and fall back down just before it reached the bell. A collective “aww” was heard through the audience, and the gentleman manning the booth gave a sympathetic pat on the arm. He offered a consolation prize – one of the smaller toys he had – and the girl picked one out instantly, still happy with her prize. It was a small black cat with a white heart on its belly. Tom noticed that there were identical ones – larger ones – on the next stand, with all sorts of animals.

“Alright, step on up, give it a try!” The man bellowed to the crowd.

“Do you want one?” Chris asked when he caught Tom staring.

“Wha – oh! No, no that’s alright,” Tom declined sheepishly, shaking his loose curls.

Chris laughed. “You’re a terrible liar, come on.” Before Tom could protest, Chris was already leading them towards the man.

“Good sir, you ready to give it a swing?”

“You bet I am,” Chris responded, gripping the oversized hammer. Tom was left no choice, and he paid the man while watching Chris judge the height of the stand. He dug his feet into the ground and in a perfect arch, brought the hammer down to the pad. Again, the crowd’s eyes followed the little block all the way up the length – and hit the bell!

_Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrring! Winner! Winner!_

The lights around the stand lit up and flashed like sirens, and the audience cheered wildly, Tom being the most enthusiastic. Chris gave him a private smile, which made Tom’s heart soar. 

“What a win! You’re the first one all day, come, come, pick a prize!” The man encouraged. 

“Tom,” Chris gestured with his hand.

Smiling sweetly with a blush, he picked the golden teddy – a lion – with bright blue eyes and an unruly man, deciding that it represented his new friend the best, and he’d like to never forget this moment.

“Thank you,” Tom said sweetly, his bright eyes screaming with joy.

“Think nothing of it. I think you’ll like this next part even more,” Chris responded, leading Tom off again towards the giant ferris wheel.

\--

“This is incredible!” Tom exclaimed when they stopped at the top. He could see the whole city stretching out beneath him, the lights flickering on and off in the houses below like fireflies. He sat between Chris and his new lion, fidgeting with excitement.

“Keep rocking and you’ll send us plummeting to our deaths,” Chris joked. 

“I’m sorry,” Tom said quickly, trying to sit back in his seat. 

“Don’t apologize, I’m just teasing you,” Chris said, playfully shoving Tom a bit. It was enough to set the young boy off again, jittering as if he had caffeine coursing through his veins.

They slowly went around a few more times, sharing stories of their lives and unknowingly falling in love.


	2. A Birthday Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> let's carry on with the fluffy while we can, shall we?

They spent every Saturday after that together, when they could. Tom would always call Chris to see if he was free, and meet him around the corner. Chris had made an effort to clear all his Saturdays, and Tom always came up with an excuse for his parents to accept. They carried on, blind to the snowballing of their love.

“Hemsworth’s,” Chris answered as usual.

“Hey Chris,” Tom chirped. 

“Tom! Hey, how are you?”

“Just bored.”

“That’s what happens when you’re cooped up for too long.”

“Then come relieve me of my boredom!”

Chris bit his lip. He really wanted to see Tom – the boy had invaded his thoughts byt day and dreams by night, his shining blue eyes and full-out laugh. But, his father had given him a surprise that morning – something he couldn’t ignore.

\--

 

_”It’s about time we think about your future, my son.”_

_“Dad –“_

_“No, just hear me out,” he said, grasping Chris’s hand and placing a small, cold key in his palm. Chris could recognize the key anywhere, and his eyes widened at the implication._

_“What! No! Dad, you love that place…”_

_“I’m in no condition to visit it anyhow,” his father waved him off. “It was a perfect place to raise you, so you could enjoy the clear air and outdoors, and now, I want you to have it all back. You’ve grown up to be a fine young man, son. Think of it as a bit of an early birthday gift.”_

_“Thank you, father,” Chris said with tears that dropped silently into his father’s slightly trembling shoulders._  
\--

“Ah, Tom, there’s… Something’s come up,” Chris admitted.

“Oh,” came Tom’s voice, soft and small as a child’s. “I understand,” he added, and Chris could just picture the angelic blonde curls bouncing with his determined nod.

“Did you want to come with me?” Chris blurted out.

“Come with you where?” Tom asked curiously.

It only made sense to ask, right? “Well it’s sort of an old house that I want to fix up. It’s sort of…. Where I grew up,” he said lamely. He didn’t know why he had extended the invitation in the first place, when he knew that Tom would have no such interest in such boring matters. He had been too tangled up in the thought of seeing Tom’s sweet smile and hearing his little laugh that rang through his mind all the time.

“Sure, meet you soon?” Tom agreed quickly to Chris’s surprise.

“I’ll be there in half an hour,” Chris said with a smile, his heart leaping with joy. 

\--

“Well, this is it,” Chris announced as they reached the worn down home, closing the doors to his old pick-up truck. He was immediately embarrassed by the faded paint and hints of rotting wood, the shutters hanging from rusted nails or missing entirely. The roof was a complete mess, and he had only just remembered how long it had been since somehow had come by to fix it.

“Gosh, this is beautiful!” Tom exclaimed, and though Chris expected Tom to be the type of person to really say anything to make you feel better, when he looked over at his companion, all he saw was a genuine excitement. “Race you to the dock!” he said before taking off.

“No fair!” he shouted, but took off nonetheless. Though he was as fast as he was bulky, Tom’s lithe frame reached the dock first, though Chris would convince him that it was due to the early start. With heaving breaths and flushed faces, they smiled at each other brightly, and Chris had forgotten the shabby state of his home away from home.

“You must have loved the water when you were growing up,” Tom said a little breathlessly. 

He nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, I spent a lot of time outdoors. We used to rent a boat every now and then, and we had a dock in the back, though I’m not sure what state that’s going to be in.”

“We could always build a new one,” Tom suggested.

Chris smiled at him. Tom assumed it was because he liked the idea, but little did he know it was due to the fact Chris had caught a word he loved to hear: “ _we_.”

“What have you got in store for this place?” Tom asked, looking over the dismal house.

“Well… I’m not really sure,” Chris admitted, scratching chin and squinting as if he could change the image in front of him. “Something… lively.”

“Lively?”

“Yeah. You know, bright and kind of nature-y.”

“Nature-y,” Tom stated in an _are-you-seriously-making-up-rubbish-words_ kind of tone.

Chris laughed before giving Tom a playful nudge. “Yeah, _nature-y._ ”

“So, how do you usually start?” Tom asked as eagerly as a new apprentice would. 

“Well, first I generally see what the problems are,” Chris chuckled. “So far the roof needs to be stripped completely, the windows need some fixing and the wood on the porch is no good either. The paint’s the last thing that I should do, so I guess looking inside is the next step.”

They made their way back to the toolbox that Chris had dropped to begin their race, and he handed Tom a flashlight as well as grab one for himself.

“Don’t be afraid now,” he teased the younger boy.

“I’m never afraid, I only get excited,” Tom replied in a voice so enthusiastic, Chris truly believed him. 

There were of course no working lights, but Chris knew his father kept oil lamps in the kitchen cupboards. The floors were thick with dust, the walls a fading yellow. He handed Tom an oil lamp, and immediately had to follow the boy as he explored the house. Tom had made Chris explain each room, starting from the upstairs bedroom, and tell him a story, and Chris felt so comfortable telling Tom about his past, he momentarily forget that they had only met a few months ago. 

When they returned to the last room – the spacious living room – Chris told his favourite story from his childhood.

“I must have been five or so when my parents said they had bought another house closer to town, where they could both find proper work, and send me to school with the other children. They said it was time. I remember hating the idea of moving away from the water and the open space here, to be stuck in a city with too many people and noisy traffic. I cried for ages, and my parents had no idea what to do with me.” 

They both laughed at the thought of a toddler version of Chris, bawling his eyes out. Tom had placed a hand on Chris’s arm to show that he wasn’t laughing _at_ him, but truly with him, for the thought was rather endearing. 

Chris didn’t mind that Tom left his hand there as he continued. “My parents had their own ways of putting me to sleep though. My father used to drive me around a smooth road, I’d be out like a light. My mother though – she used to play the piano for me.”

At that point Tom looked up at the corner where Chris had pointed. It was a bulky lump covered in black cloth, and he could only assume that it had been untouched since Chris’s story.

“I loved it when my mother played the piano for me, and she always had this one song… I can’t remember for the life of me what she used to play, but it was beautiful. Soft, and slow, and a little haunting – I think it got a lot happier, but I can’t be sure. I never even managed to make it through the full song because I’d always fall asleep before it… Now I’ll never know,” Chris ended sadly. 

“What did it sound like?” Tom asked.

Chris decided to try his best to hum what he could remember. He’d heard the opening notes at least a hundred times – he was a stubborn child, after all – and he thought of the tune every night before he went to bed. He let his voice lull back and forth in the deep melody he could remember and saw Tom close his eyes and nod along, a finger tapping against his knee as if keeping beat. When he stopped after a short while, Tom got up and walked over to the covered piano.

“May I?”

Chris was at a loss for words. Nobody had touched the piano since – neither he nor his father had ever the patience or dexterity with their hands to learn. They were, after all, handymen, their hands practiced to wield hammers and hit nails, not piano keys. He nodded for Tom to gently lift the fabric off, revealing the old, wooden piano with its beautiful carvings. Gulping, he walked over to trace the markings from the piano bench, fingers remembering every twist and turn as he had often done this when his mother practiced. 

He nearly jumped when Tom sat down beside him and played a scale, the sound that had become so foreign to him. He watched as Tom’s long, slender fingers danced over the keys gracefully and became transfixed.

“The piano’s a little out of tune, but it’s still in great condition,” Tom commented when he had just about played every note.

“My mother took pretty good care of it and it hasn’t been touched since.”

Then, Tom stroked his collarbone slowly, something that Chris noticed Tom did as a nervous habit. He waited patiently until Tom cleared his throat, rubbed a finger along his upper lip and brought both his hands to the piano keys. Chris held his breath, wondering if this was really happening – had he truly gotten so lucky?

There it was – the same, slow drifting of notes that swam around the room, tugging his mind into the calm, soothing state just as it had when he was a child. He thought of all the nights he had begged for this very same song, and all the nights his mother would laugh her tinkling laugh before indulging him in his demands. It had been almost eleven years since he’d been able to hear the piece of music fill this room, and even though the tears that came were more sweet than bitter, Tom stopped playing to whisper his apologies.

“No, please, keep playing,” Chris asked.

“I – but are you sure?” Tom asked with concern, his brows furrowed and raised. 

Chris simply nodded, as Tom brought his fingers to the keys once more and performed without fault. They lost track of time as Chris was lulled into his memories by the steady pace of Tom’s private show, and even though only six minutes had passed, he felt as though he had been with Tom like this for hours. He often opened his eyes to watch Tom’s deft fingers glide along the keys in flawless movements, or watch the boy sway with the beat slightly, body in rhythm with the music, eyes closing for the briefest moments to show he had obviously played this many a times. 

“That was perfect,” Chris said in awe.

Tom flushed a bit at the compliment, fidgeting with his shirt at the collar again. “I only played the first bit to it, the other two movements are much harder,” he said. 

“It was brilliant, really,” Chris insisted. He knew that Tom had no idea of the gift he had just given, but he was so touched he put an arm around Tom and pulled him in for a hug. “Thank you.”

When he pulled away, Tom was flushed, but smiling. “You’re very welcome.”

“Where did you learn to play like that?” he asked.

“My parents had a piano in our old house but neither of them ever played it… I was rather bored, you see, being homeschooled, so I decided to try it out one day,” Tom explained. “My tutor at the time mentioned I was getting rather good and my parents thought that perhaps having a hobby wouldn’t be so bad so they hired someone to teach me further. Beethoven was always a personal favourite of mine. Your mother used to play one of his most famous pieces, also one of my favourites – the Moonlight Sonata, people call it.”

Chris found it incredibly endearing when Tom spoke, strong and sure of everything he was saying. “This is turning out to be the best set of birthday gifts I’ve ever received.”

“But I haven’t given you my _actual_ gift for you!”

“What! No, Tom, you didn’t have to –“

“I want to,” Tom quickly assured. “I know it’s in a few days, and you’re usually busy, but I thought maybe I could see you before next Saturday, to give you your gift?”

Chris need only to take one look into Tom’s eyes, darkened by the lighting with flecks of what seemed to be gold in the flickering light of the flame. A part of him didn’t want to accept the gift – they’d only known each other for a few months – two and a half, to be precise – and he knew that Tom came from a wealthier family, and that Chris could never give Tom a gift he didn’t already have, and Chris was just the type of person who didn’t like feeling in debt. But, truth be told, he missed Tom terribly when they weren’t together, and any opportunity he had to see the boy, he would take.

“Yeah… Yeah, I’d really like that,” Chris agreed, still feeling a small worm of guilt. 

“Wonderful. Shall I just meet you here then?”

“No, no, it’s such a long way away from town, I can come get you.”

“Nonsense, I’ll be fine. I always enjoy a good walk.”

“I’ll be here all week,” Chris said. At that moment, a small field rat decided to skitter across the floor and out a small hole by the front door. “I’ll be here for a few weeks, actually,” Chris added.

Tom threw his head back to let out his “eheheh” laugh that Chris had grown to love, and together they tidied the small things and talked about their dreams and hopes.

\--

It wasn’t that he liked keeping the secret from his parents, but he knew what they thought of … _those_ relationships. They would jump to the wrong conclusion with how much time he was spending out with Chris, whom he had dutifully labelled “a friend”. The thought along of Chris made him nervous, fiddling with the wrapping of his painting.

It was only when he had almost reached the secluded lake house that he began to panic about Chris’s reaction. He hadn’t thought much when he was painting it, but what if it offended him in some manner? Chris ad spotted him heading down the trail and smiled brightly before waving him over. He groaned inwardly at his own naivety, but prayed for the best – it was too late to back down now. 

He tried not to pay attention to the fact that Chris was completely shirtless and that his sweat had created an almost saintly shine with the sun’s rays beaming down, and greeted his friend as calmly as he could. 

“You look like you’ve already gotten sunburnt,” Chris teased, poking Tom’s flushed cheek, which really only made him redden further. 

“I was walking for a long time,” he retorted, swatting Chris’s hand away. 

“Let’s go inside,” Chris offered anyway, picking his shirt up off the wooden post. 

In just the three days since Tom had last seen the house, Chris had made remarkable process. Tom looked around at the spotless floors that had been re-boarded and varnished, giving them a brand new shine. The furniture had all been moved, save for the piano and there was a large blanket in the middle of the living room. Green painter’s tape had been on the new moulding, the walls bare and waiting to be painted. 

“Wow, you’ve made incredible process,” Tom said enthusiastically. He was happy for Chris, and he knew how much this project meant to Chris. 

“It’s been pretty easy up until now, the hardest part is the outside.”

Tom had placed his gift on floor, taking a seat on the blanket. “You know, I thought about it on the way here, and I’ve only just realized that maybe you wouldn’t like what I had done and it was so foolish of me to –“

“Tom,” Chris cut him off abruptly with a smile. “I’m going to like whatever you’ve done for me. Really.” 

Satisfied with the silence he elicited from the boy who was almost bouncing off the walls with nervous excitement, he unwrapped the paper to reveal a corner of the large rectangle – a thin, brown frame. He made quick work of the remaining paper 

“Oh my God…” Chris breathed, his fingertips brushing across the canvas, the sharp texture of the paint grazing his skin. It captured the details perfectly; the lake was startling blue yet clear, the fields alive with firs and evergreens, the house itself was spotless, fixed, and painted in a clean white with dark green. Tom had added bright red chairs on the small front porch, and a balcony, even though Chris had never mentioned one. There was even a dock, floating serenely in the water, and the colours were blended perfectly. 

“I’m sorry if it’s a little… much,” Tom said sheepishly.

“No, no, this is… This is fantastic, wow,” Chris said in awe, still drinking in all the details. “Thank you so much.”

“You like it?” he asked softly, as if still unsure. 

“I _love_ it,” Chris insisted genuinely. “Especially this balcony.”

“You know, I’d station myself there to paint the view.” Chris’s stomach flipped at the insinuation. _I’ll be over, I’ll be here with you._

Mouth slightly dry, he responded in stride. “And I would watch you very closely as you created another masterpiece.”

Tom laughed happily with a blush, “You’re just flattering me.”

“No, I’m really not. This is incredible. How many other breathtaking talents do you have?” he joked. The painting was indeed magnificent; Chris was determined to have it hanging once he had finished painting. In fact, it had just helped him make all his decisions in regards to the house.

Tom was ecstatic about Chris’s reaction. There was, of course, one more step, but he felt his very spine shivering at the thought of it. Gathering every last bit of courage he had left, he decided to go ahead with his plans. 

“I’ve one more gift, if you’ll accept.”

“Jesus, another?” Chris let out a breath. 

“A small one, I should think.”

“You’ve already given me everything I could ever ask for just by being here,” Chris smiled. That smile that had Tom’s world spinning – they were only inches apart and he already felt intoxicated by Chris’s presence. He closed the distance between them and reached upward to hold Chris’s face in his hands. The only reaction he got was Chris widening his eyes, but instead of pulling back, he leaned forward slightly, which was all the reassurance Tom needed. 

As if it were a movie, their heads tilted to the side just right, their eyelids drooping closed, and their lips meeting softly, holding the moment that was rightfully theirs.

It lasted longer than Tom had planned, but they held each other so closely it was impossible to come between them. Tom let his hand curl around the back of Chris’s neck and the other clutching to Chris’s shoulder as if he couldn’t bear the thought of letting Chris go while the other’s arm held tight around his waist and cradled the back of his head. The rush felt like a tidal wave breaking through a dam as they smiled into their kiss, Tom slowly leading Chris back to the blanket upon the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES, what you think is going to happen is going to happen. Hang in there folks, this is going to rot your teeth.


	3. Slow Dancing with Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> because you all deserve some sweet smut before I explode. 
> 
> next chapters will be up in due time!

They say that when you’re doing something you love, or in the company of someone you care about, time flies. 

Chris would beg to differ. From the moment Tom had edged away from the table and toward the blanket, the space around them had grown to honey, their movements growing slow as if the force of gravity had increased tenfold. He could document every movement, from the moment he laid Tom down on the blanket and looked in his eyes – the moment his heart lost its rhythm. He felt delicate fingers skate across his face, and closed his eyes.

They say that when you’re doing something you love, or in the company of someone you care about, time flies. 

Tom would beg to differ. He couldn’t tell if time had slowed or stop completely. He let Chris steer him as he fumbled backwards blindly, the strong, large hands supportive and never faltering. The instant his back had hit the floor, he looked up at Chris, into those brilliant azure orbs and captured the memory in his mind as he closed his own eyes.

Their lips met with nothing but softness, and their fingers trembled from the mixture of excitement and nervousness.

“I never knew you felt this way,” Chris said breathlessly. 

“I didn’t think you’d be interested,” Tom admitted. 

Chris shook his head, the loose strands of blonde hair falling forth and tickling Tom’s face. “You have no idea how wrong you are.”

Tom’s laugh floated through the air as his fingers fidgeted with the hem of Chris’s shirt, and Chris’s fingers ran through Tom’s hair. It was easy between them, to speak without words. 

Tom slid Chris’s shirt up to his shoulders, letting Chris pull away just to shed it. His fingers danced over the sculpted tan muscles that he had admired earlier that day, amazed at how hard and defined they were. He sat up as an open invitation for Chris’s hands that were as hot as the candlelight around them and pressed open-mouthed kisses upon the burly arms.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Tom whispered so quietly he thought maybe Chris wouldn’t hear him. 

“Since the day I met you,” Chris responded. It was terribly cliché, naïve too, but he meant it. Perhaps he hadn’t known it or thought it then, but he had never stopped thinking about the angelic-looking boy who needed his showerhead fixed. A friend, someone who was nothing like him and yet everything he needed – his missing jigsaw piece. 

“Me too,” he admitted to the boy who outshone the sun with his smile – the smile that was descending upon his own like the sun in the horizon. He closed his eyes, and welcomed the warmth. Fingers deft and shaking the slightest, he unbuttoned the singular fasten and tugged the zipper down slowly, knuckles brushing against the hardened member entrapped. 

Chris let out a shuddered moan, the new sensation so electric that his body immediately reacted. He slipped his hand down the soft fabric of Tom’s shirt along his side, smiling as he felt Tom hold his breath. His hands found the hem of his t-shirt and slipped underneath, tugging it along Tom’s body as he went, blazing at the feel of Tom arching up against his body. He revealed the lean body beneath him and savoured the skin that, to him, was gold to his bronze.

It was only once the chill of the evening tickled their bare skin did they cling desperately to each other for the warmth and touch, their uncoordinated actions turned into a rhythmic rut, friction in their pants sweet and painful. Tom’s fingers flicked the button of Chris’s jeans and pulled at the zipper, using his legs and feet to wiggle them off Chris, who in return stripped Tom down easily, taking in the long legs that went on for miles. He ran his hands down both of Tom’s legs, starting from the ankles, delighted that Tom squirmed under his light, slightly ticklish touch. Planting kisses back and forth between the two thighs, his fingers hooked themselves underneath the waistband of Tom’s boxers, pulling them down slowly to give Tom a chance to say no. 

It never came. Tom’s cock was ready and leaking, searching for Chris’s touch, which the boy happily gave. He grabbed the hard flesh in one hand, the other seeking out every other inch of Tom he could feel. Tom was hot and cold at the same time, skin burning with desire and cooled by the night air coming from the window. The flames flickered and danced around them, casting bold shadows across their faces. HE was surprised when Tom had boldly yanked down his own underwear, biting his lip when he saw Tom’s gaze fall downward to take in the sight. His next breath stuttered when Tom quickly caught up to his pace and he kissed the boy beneath him hungrily, leaning closer to have their chests touch, even as Tom whined into his mouth. Their bodies felt perfect together, and when Tom had pushed Chris off gently, his eyes only said ‘more.’

Chris frantically searched for a bottle of oil or Vaseline and returned with a bottle of baby oil. He handed the container to Tom, untrusting of his shaking fingers, directing their attention to the wonderful contours of Tom’s body. He was so different from Chris in a lot of ways, the body was strung tight like a bowstring, and if he tried, he could count a few of Tom’s ribs. It was flawless, unmarked; a clam, clear sea without a single ship in its waters. His own muscles were not too defined, but far more along than most boys their age, scars and burns planted along his body from his work. Tom zealously poured some of the oil onto his own fingers before handing the bottle back to Chris.

He couldn’t believe his eyes when Tom’s fingers started to spread the lubricant around the flesh of his hole, legs spread in a private show for Chris and Chris alone. Fumbling with the liquid, he coated his own hand, rubbing himself at the sight of Tom, close-eyed and flushed upon the ground. 

“You’re beautiful,” he said genuinely, eliciting a soft sigh of content from Tom, who removed his fingers and had begun urging Chris’s cock closer to his entrance still. Tom detected even the smallest amount of hesitancy.

“I want this,” Tom said as calmly as possible, even as his heart was fighting to stay inside his chest. Chris’s mouth had run dry and could only reply with a slow nod, nuzzling his nose into Tom’s neck, breathing deeply, one arm above Tom’s head, the other nestled between Tom’s legs, fingers playing around the outside of puckered skin. 

“I’ve always wanted this,” Chris said at last, letting his middle finger slide in slowly. Tom had stopped breathing, opting to instead close his eyes and let his mouth remain open in a silent plea – a plea to continue, a plea for more, a plea for his body to relax. 

“Am I hurting you?”

“No,” Tom answered automatically through gritted teeth.

“You’re a terrible liar,” Chris said as he began to retreat.

“No!” Tom rushed, grabbing at Chris’s wrist to hold him still. “Please,” he added.

They found a manageable pace through soft touches and loving whispers, and soon enough, Tom’s body began to relax, began to open for Chris, and re-slicking his fingers, Chris spread his fingers slowly inside, drawing a delicious moan from Tom, pliant and pleading beneath him. 

“I love you,” he said in the hopes of making Tom feel at ease.

“I love you too.”

Chris pushed forward, feeling himself breach the tight ring of muscle that swallowed him in. He groaned at the warmth of it, the friction that came with the slide, the way Tom panted in his ear when he hunched over the boy, arms braced on either side of his head. 

Tom’s legs were snaking their way around Chris’s legs and back, pulling and locking Chris closer to him still, as if he never wanted to let go. His hands had clawed at the fabric, tightening with each thrust, palms sweaty. He needed to touch, to feel Chris all over – he dug his fingers into the meat of Chris’s shoulder, running it through the slightly damp blonde hair that hung down to tickle his face. When Chris pulled Tom downward, changing the angle just the slightest, Tom could have sworn there were explosions in the quiet room. Letting out a choked cry, he grabbed Chris’s hands by his head, letting Chris interlock their fingers, holding on tightly. He released all over his heaving stomach, eyelids dropping with the exhaustion of satisfaction, legs tightening around Chris to clench around his lover. He felt Chris plant a soft kiss to each eyelid before Chris’s last few thrusts to make him spill, and Tom shuddered at the heat that spilled out of him the moment Chris made a move to roll over. 

The next few moments were of precious silence that spoke louder than any words. Their lazy movements in the afterglow of their love-making were a slow, spinning dance. 

They say that when you’re doing something you love, or in the company of someone you care about, time flies. But what matter is that, when you have found the one you want to spend the rest of your life with? Here they lay, tangled in their limbs and love as the candles around them burned out, and night fell – time a forgotten thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've already planned the rest of the story, but writing it is just getting difficult. There WILL be angst coming up - you've been warned.
> 
> <3 Thank you for all the feedback!


	4. Comes Down To You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eeep, I'm so sorry for the delay. I don't even know if anyone's reading this anymore, but it hit me today that I need to get back into writing to keep myself sane.  
> This is a teensy attempt, and I've had this story planned out for so long already, I just need to FINISH AQTQ$HEFADOE#Q.  
> Again, I'm sorry! Please still love me.

Tom couldn’t say he was surprised when he rose to the soft sizzling of something in the frying pan, a delicious sweet and salty scent wafting through the rooms. With slight soreness, Tom roused about in the blanket before getting up groggily, keeping the light blanket around his shoulders. With soft footsteps, he reached the kitchen and leaned against the doorframe to study Chris, who seemingly hadn’t noticed his approach. Tom admired the easy rhythm that Chris had, stirring and flipping with ease as he used all the elements on the stove, with such a passionate concentration that the world around him didn’t seem to exist. The Brit also noticed the adorable little ponytail Chris was sporting to keep the hair out of his face, and decided he rather liked it. 

“Morning!” Tom exclaimed over-cheerfully. 

“Ngrah!?” 

Tom burst into laughter at the incomprehensible noise that erupted from Chris, while the elder was not as amused at being taken by surprise.

“You little sneak…” he said, with an upturned corner of his mouth.

Tom padded over to kiss said corner before Chris suddenly wrapped his arms around Tom’s slender frame and, quite honestly, stole a full-on kiss (not that Tom minded). “Come on, then,” he whispered, urging Tom to have a seat.

Plopping himself in the wooden chair, Tom smiled giddily at the thought of Chris going through the notions of taking care of him after their… _special_ night together. Truthfully, he hadn’t planned that far ahead – which was such a foolish thing, now that he thought about it. What if it was strictly a one-night occurrence? What if Chris acted tense, or awkward the next morning? Tom blushed at his own naivety but didn’t have time to dwell on it as a massive plate of pancakes, bacon, home fries and eggs were presented to him.

“Your eyes resemble golf balls… Beautiful little sapphire encrusted golf balls,” Chris teased.

“Chris! This looks delicious!” Tom exclaimed in response, spearing his fork through the potatoes. Before he put it in his mouth, Chris gently grabbed his wrist, purposely looked Tom in the eyes and blew on the forkful. Tom could barely contain his embarrassment but it came out as a lopsided grin as he focused on Chris’s hand, still wrapped around his wrist.

“And don’t forget this,” Chris said (almost) seriously, grabbing ketchup from the counter and squirting some onto Tom’s plate.

Tom dutifully dipped his now cooled home fries in the ketchup and shoved it in his mouth, which upon contact elicited a long, loud moan from Tom’s throat. 

Chris raised an eyebrow as Tom continued to taste a little bit of everything on his plate. At this point, Chris could only offer butter, syrup, salt, and pepper to the seemingly famished boy. 

“This is tho delithiouth!” Tom managed between mouthfuls of syrupy pancakes, eyes closed in bliss.

Chris couldn’t take his eyes off him the entire meal.

 

________

After sadly realizing that Tom had to get home, Chris offered to walk him home. Tom politely declined, explaining that his parents may not be so approving of who he had been spending the previous night with, to which Chris reluctantly agreed to stay behind. They kissed goodbye happily, promising to see each other soon. Chris watched the tuft of golden brown hair float away until it became a blur in the distance, and sighed as he headed back in to the house. Now nearly finished, he no longer thought of it as a house that needed fixing – no, as he walked past the blankets on the floor and the burnt our candle, he thought of it as a home. With that, he went to find his toolbox, and set off determinedly on his mission. 

 

________

 

“YOU DID _WHAT_?”

Tom flinched at the high-pitched screech his mother had let out before seeing the tight-knit fury in his father’s facial expression. If his heart was a ship, it was currently sinking in the sea that was the pit of his stomach. 

“Son, you know _exactly_ how we feel about this –”

“WELL CLEARLY NOT! OTHERWISE HE WOULDN’T HAVE RUN OFF WITH THAT… THAT- ”

“And who is exactly is to blame for the lack of discipline?”

“ARE YOU… HOW DARE YOU ACCUSE _ME_! My GOODNESS, if it weren’t for ME, that boy would have….”

And so a whirlpool began to form and the ship began to spiral, spiral, spiral. Tom wanted to sink into the ground as his parents continued to bicker and blame each other for the “atrocious behaviour” that he exhibited. Every time he tried to get a word in, he was immediately shot down.

“Chris is a _good_ person, he works hard-”

“Yes, I’m sure, sweetie. Working hard at hammering holes in rooftops,” his mother replied in a disgusted tone.

“He was the one who fixed our showerhead!” Tom defended hotly.

“Do you think tinkering with sprinklers is any better than hammering holes? Honestly, Tom! What has gotten into you! He’s filled your head with ridiculous notions that his… _work_ is actually work! For Pete’s sake Thomas, your father and I – we are the ones who are working hard-”

“You’ve never even made me breakfast!” he blurted out before running upstairs to his room. Looking back at it now, the comment must have seemed really out of the blue, but he didn’t care how much sense he made to his mother, he knew the truth. The truth was: his parents argued and made lots of money but in the end, didn’t know a darned thing about him, while Chris knew every little detail effortlessly, from the “I’m-always-too-eager-to-let-food-cool” to the “I-love-dipping-everything-in-a-condiment”, and knew exactly how to make Tom smile. Chris cared, Tom was sure of it. He knew the choice he would have to make, even if it meant sneaking out at odd hours and lying to parents, he needed to be with Chris.

Little did he know, his parents were already one step ahead of him.


End file.
